The Apocrypha Series One: Graduation Day (2 of 6)
by The Neon Seal
Summary: With Aylish settling in aboard the Tardis, Clara is making sure her little sister gets a proper education. The Sontarans are out for revenge however, and as the young Time Lady faces one final test she might have to break all the rules to save the continuum itself. (It would be best if you read 'Folklore' first.)
1. Legacy

THE APOCRYPHA

Story Two:

GRADUATION DAY

By Paul Whittaker

 _We dwell at the end of the continuum where no enemies but time and entropy might find us. Pitiful, I think._

 _Across the gulf of void, a gilded reflection of our once mighty civilization is again on the rise. While we cower and rot, they face the most irredeemable of evils and build bridges where once there were none. Conflict is unavoidable, yet they are all the better for standing against those who would only destroy, and the relics of the war that broke us remain an ever present threat._

 _Reprisal was only a matter of time as my person of interest, one Clara Oswald, is about to discover. The children of Gallifrey no longer stand alone however, and as I record the second entry in the chronicle of the young Time Lady's life, Clara will also find that she too is not alone in the trial she must face..._

Part One: Legacy

APPIAN, 28th CENTURY: LAST DAY OF THE WAR OF SUCCESSION

Commander Sigma/7a silently glided toward the light with an aura of steady relentlessness. The sound of battle, filtered by precision audio receptors, was sweet music–driving Sigma ever on towards ultimate, crushing victory. Peering out at the hideously cold and evil universe from behind a plasma-formed fisheye lens, it knew nothing terrible could get at it, safely hidden away within its Polycarbide home–and any fear that did arise was swiftly edited out by the self-same system of advanced machinery.

Either side of the dusty passage was littered with the corpses of vicious monsters that would like nothing better than to harm Sigma and the rest of its kin. Indeed, Sigma only regarded such horror with a slowly simmering sort of rage, brought on by the fact that it hadn't been the one to remove them from its existence.

As the light grew, so did the clarity of the monotone voices ahead, and so the distance to Sigma's goal lessened. With almost single intent, it kept that obsidian, glyph-scrawled monolith at the centre of focus, but never, once, did it forget about the terrible beings that wished to steal it.

'Quantum artifact secure...' one of the monsters reported on several wavelengths without an ounce of imagination. 'Secure perimeter and prepare for transmat to primary tomb ship...'

Sigma and it's cohorts picked up speed and gave a burst of interference as one of the tall metallic humanoids turned toward them with hollow expression.

'EXTERMINATE!' Sigma sang, its gun spitting a bright blue beam in response to the command and vanquishing the threat.

'EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!' it laughed from within its safe place as it burst into the full light of day, making the universe a little safer with every spent round.

Within moments, the Cyber strike force was so much scrap and offal, and victory belonged to the Daleks. Now Sigma and its kin could stand as kings of their own destiny atop the great ziggurat, surrounded by war torn plains of death and carnage filled skies.

'THE MONARCH IS NOW OURS!' Sigma declared as Zeta/1b and Gamma/22s took up defensive positions on either side of the Time Lord relic. 'VICTORY FOR THE EMPIRE! VICTORY! VICTO–'

'You will turn and face me, sir!' a hoarse –if, well spoken–voice demanded, and the squat-built, dome-helmeted humanoid blew a hole clean through the Dalek commander with a single shot from his Stenk 11 pistol as it complied.

Zeta/1b was instantly on the offensive, but screamed like twisting metal as a second Sontaran appeared–ghost-like–alongside, chainblade spewing dust and vital slimes.

Gamma/22s attempted to back up and ascertain the most viable target, but was swiftly blown to gooey pieces by a third assailant emerging from the shadowy passage with smoking laser rifle.

'Lieutenant Zars, place the beacon,' Commander Nix ordered, gesturing to the artifact with his pistol.

Zars nodded and sheathed his growling sword as more troops appeared around them in pulses of light.

'Sergeant Vex,' Nix further commanded, 'secure the entrance.'

The third original assailant gestured for some of the other soldiers to join him and took up position guarding the passage.

'Is the beacon set?'

'It is, sir,' Zars confirmed as he stood upright.

'This is commander Nix,' the heavily armoured trooper rasped into his comm device. 'Monarch is secure and ready for transport to Sontar.'

' _Transportation order confirmed,_ ' the flagship many miles above replied with a fizz of static. ' _Commencing transportation._ '

Then, nothing. Commander Nix turned to look at the artifact, then glared up at the fiery sky.

'Well?' he demanded.

' _Commander,_ ' the flagship replied in earnest, ' _new ships have arrived and are blocking our transport signal. We can't_ -'

Nix watched, completely powerless, as the artifact slipped from his grasp and disappeared with a familiar, mayfly flash.

' _This is the Terra-Draconian Empire,_ ' a domineering voice suddenly hailed from every possible speaker on every possible piece of technology.

Almost as a continuation of the statement, a column of brilliant radiance cracked the sky and punched into the earth. It was all Nix could do to stay upright as he shielded his eyes from the blast that consumed the southern planes, eradicating half of every faction's army in one fatal swipe–his own included.

' _By order of the Time Lord Council of Gallifrey and the absolute resolution of the Final Conclusion, all hostile forces are to surrender immediately or face the consequences,_ ' the voice added, almost smugly.

Curse the Humans! Curse the Draconians! Curse their Chula allies and their Time Lord backers!

'Men! Use your vortex manipulators!' Nix ordered–a big risk considering–and within moments they were on the bridge of the flagship, a burning field of a hundred wrecks between them and the self-righteous interlopers.

'Helmsman Vask,' Nix growled as he removed his helmet to reveal a face scarred by many a glorious pursuit, 'set temporal coordinates!'

'Where to commander?' the voice that had been at the end of the comm enquired.

Nix tightened his fist. 'The beginning...'

* * *

NEPTUNE, 1989

Aylish's eyes flickered open and a smile spread across her lips as she remembered where she was.

Indeed, it was quite unlike our star-bound lass to be so enthusiastic in the morning, yet she leapt out from beneath the sanctuary of her sheets and took in the clinically clean expanse of her bedchamber. She rather liked the retro look off the glossy white surfaces, and the strange round things on the walls, but she was still too struck by the very notion of having a suite of rooms to fully appreciate the sixties-utilitarian aesthetic.

A space-princess. Yes. That's exactly how it made her feel.

After such a rather unnecessary shock to her stirring system, Aylish slowed things down with a bit of a yawn and a stretch and a, 'Hi there! How are you today?'

You may be wondering who this was addressed to. Well, I can confirm that this wasn't addressed to any person in particular–as we may think of–but instead to the walls, ceiling and floor that surrounded her.

In seeming response, the constant and near-imperceptible hum of the life-sustaining machinery that encompassed her altered pitch ever so briefly.

She nodded in acknowledgement, not at all feeling crazy, and padded off to her bathroom.

The lass didn't think she'd ever get used to the sonic shower, just as she thought she'd never get over the vast, floor-to-ceiling 'windows' that formed one whole wall of the chamber. Right now, as she walked back into the chamber, she could make out the faint details of a few moons, near silhouetted against the infinite star field beyond.

It made her wonder about her friend and protector's powers of deduction rather than when or where she'd parked the Tardis–or why. Clara _had_ stated that she'd had the same configuration of rooms during her last days as a human–whatever that meant–and thought that she would appreciate them. Such a strange, strange place she now lived in... Which was ok. Aylish dealt best with 'strange' anyway.

After throwing on some clothes she stared at herself in the huge vanity mirror and briefly wondered what might become of her. Then she completely forgot about that and turned her attention to her physical reflection. Framing her green eyes with dark eyeliner and shadow as black as night, she then applied bone-white makeup to her already pale complexion and finished it all off with a black, latticed choker. Hauntingly stunning is how I would describe the end result, but it was for nobody in particular and bore no real purpose beyond Aylish's attempt to try and meet her own self-perceived ideal of 'cool'.

Her stomach then suddenly growled for a lovely slice of hot, buttery toast, so Aylish headed out for the kitchen–as well as to make sure that her sister was getting up for school.

* * *

Reclining in one of the console room's 'reading chairs' with a cup of coffee in one hand and one of a gazillion books in the other, Aylish listened to her music while waiting for the day to begin proper. Where would they go to today? What would see? The last couple of days had been an utter rush and she loved it.

She found she needn't remind the designated driver that they were on a quest either. A chalkboard close beside her chair bore evidence of the Time Lady's extensive work–which often carried on long after Aylish had retired for the night.

Skeeter Davis asked why her heart went on beating as Aylish studied the spider's web of elementary thought, before wondering why her eyes cried. The name of her father's flight–'Flight 630515'–was circled in chalk with many lines going off to many names she didn't recognise, but the boldest of them all led to a photo of an angel statue that had been circled furiously. The echoing singer then in enquired if they knew it was the end of the world, but before she could give an answer as to the why...

Skip...

The lass frowned as a familiar warble died away and the sound of light footsteps resonated from the walkway above.

'I Miss You' by Blink 182 was also subsequently passed over in favor of a live rendition of 'Protect and Survive' by Runrig, the designated driver sharing Aylish's soft-spot for a Scotsman with an electric guitar.

'She's late,' followed the voice of the Time Lady, equally strict and fair in it's delivery.

Aylish snapped the book shut. It was too weird anyway–going on about what to expect in your last moment if something called a 'quantum shade' gets you–and it looked like it had been chucked at a wall a few times.

'You know the last two days should have been Hogmanay?' She enquired as she ascended the stairs and met Clara's suddenly hurt gaze.

'But I thought my lessons were, you know? Fun!' the Time Lady passively protested.

'School's school, though, right?' Aylish replied as she settled into one of the seemingly brand-new pilot's seats. That really didn't help, and Aylish quickly averted her eyes from the look Clara gave her. 'Plus, you had to get her that frog-dog thing...' She deflected as she scrutinized her tatty Element skate shoes.

'A Frolf,' Clara clarified as she took to tinkering with the console, 'and I'm only trying to make it up to her for... stuff...' Which she'd hoped these lessons would do. Even now she couldn't help but feel guilty toward the wee mite.

'Didn't get me anything...' Aylish mumbled. This of course wasn't true, as the Time Lady had 'modified' the lass' trusty old rucksack so that it was now slightly dimensionally transcendental–try saying that after a bottle of Arcadia's finest!

'I'm sorry,' Clara replied sharply and looked up at her. 'Would you like me to give you a bed-time story every night?'

Aylish just stuck her tongue out at the Teacher, who shook her head and returned to her work with a smirk. 'I want you to look at my laptop though,' she then insisted for the fifth time.

'All in good time,' Clara said absently.

'Time, time, time... It's all about time with you people, isn't it?' Aylish jokingly grumbled and the Tardis replied with a grumble of its own.

The Time Lady looked all around with a shocked little expression, then returned to Aylish with a knowing grin.

'It's alive,' the lass remarked with child-like wonder. 'The Tardis, I mean...'

'I wanted to know how long it would take for you to realise,' Clara admitted. 'When did you?'

Aylish wanted to tell her that it was the moment she entered the door, but a riotous noise that sounded like her sister came laughing and yelping and tripping down the side passage.

'Catch it Mr Wagglesworth!' she cried as an errant tennis ball bounced off the walkway floor, flew over the edge, ricocheted off a step and went hurtling straight at the busy Time Lady.

Aylish's breath froze as the ball went spinning in slow motion and Darcy skidded to a halt with a world-ending gasp atop the stairs. As if it were nothing however, Clara raised a hand and caught the object just inches from her face without turning away from her work.

Stifling a smile, the Teacher looked up at nothing in particular and pocketed the ball. When she did train her attention on her student though, she offered a stern beckon with her finger and pointed at Aylish without a word uttered about disruption or tardiness.

* * *

'Time,' Clara began in her most enigmatic voice as she slowly strolled along the upper walkway, head high and hands neatly held behind her back. Perched upon Aylish's knee, Darcy stared with wide-eyed attentiveness, looking very prim and proper in the uniform that the Time Lady had conjured for her. 'Time can get a bit messy. While most of it is in flux and changes like the clouds in the sky, there are moments called Fixed Points. These are events that dictate the general course of the universe and so form the very pedestals of the continuum... To try and change one of these would be catastrophic.'

The thought then occurred to our darkly fated heroin that the falling leaf that had led to her existence might not have been down to random chance at all–a conversation topic she'd quite like to bring up with her old mentor if she were ever granted permission to meet him again...

'She's seven years old,' Aylish then retorted. The lass understood why Clara had asked her to sit on this particular lesson, but it seemed absurd to try and teach Darcy something quite so complex.

'It's not hard,' the little girl than piped up. 'If you try to change the really important stuff you'll break something. Which I think is bad.'

'Very good! Top of the class!' Clara declared and offered a grin that made Darcy feel very, very proud. 'Aylish,' she swiftly added. 'Report to me after school.'

'You're in trouble,' Darcy quietly tittered and pulled a face at her sister.

'Whatever,' Aylish muttered and ruffled her hair in that way that she hated.

Clara chose for the hint of disorder to slide as she continued. 'Deaths are the most common,' the Time Lady cautiously imparted while the furry, frog-shaped critter yawned with its big, toothless mouth. 'Unfortunately... Along with a few major historic happenings which you might know. There are other no-no's too with time travel, such as going back over personal events, and even worse, meeting yourself... But we're here, specifically, in this place, to talk about historic events.'

Carefully, she started stepping down the flight of stairs to the main deck. 'Can either of you name an inspiring astronautical event that inspired to the extent of becoming a fixed point?' Knowing Darcy's love of all things concerning spacemen and rocket ships, Clara figured this would be a sure win.

'The Apollo Eleven Landing,' Aylish blurted.

'Important,' Clara noted, 'but that's an entirely different story.'

'Clara!' Darcy hailed and waved her hand in a bid to be noticed over her much bigger sister.

The Teacher gave her a cautioning look.

'Sorry... Miss Oswald!' she added, only being allowed to call her 'Clara' out of school hours.

Clara smiled and nodded for her to proceed.

'Valentina Tereshkova,' the little girl excitedly answered, 'the first woman in space!'

'Good answer,' the Teacher enthused as she walked up to the door and pulled it open. 'I might have picked that one too. Would you like to see _the actual_ event?'

Clara then stepped away from the hatch with a beckoning wave and a presentational gesture.

Darcy gingerly approached the open door, clutching her big sister's hand for reassurance, and as she crossed the threshold she let go a tiny gasp that meant the world to her expectant Teacher.

The frozen stars twinkled in their billions through every window, bidding the travellers a safe journey, and dead-ahead loomed a sapphire marble that no jeweller could ever outmatch.

'We're currently in orbit of Neptune,' Clara informed happily. 'The date is the twenty fifth of August, nineteen eighty nine...'

'Lookey Aylish!' Darcy cheered with glee, and her big sister felt much like Arthur Dent in the Restaurant at the End of the Universe as she was led through the diner to the door–Arthur Dent apparently being a fictional character in this particular corner of the multiverse.

Together they watched the swirling maelstroms that racked the planet below, and admired the foggy moon that hung to one side, giggling.

'Any minute...' Clara said with anticipation as she stepped up behind them. '...Now!' She pointed to a shining dot hurtling across the face of the swirling deep. 'The Voyager Two space probe on it's closest approach to the planet. Do you see it?'

'Yeah!' Darcy chirped.

'Three days from now, it will take its farewell shot of our solar system,' the Time Lady added reverently, 'showing the twin crescents of the planet and its moon, Triton. That photograph will inspire the chief engineer behind the Adelaide Brooke Mars Mission. Her granddaughter, Susie Fontaine Brooke will follow in her footsteps and pilot the first lightspeed ship to Proxima Centauri...'

As the hardy little probe blinked in its brief passing, Darcy found herself waving back.

'Forty thousand years from now, it will have crossed deep space to reach a star called Ross Two Four Eight, and in two hundred and ninety six thousand years it will finally reach the Sirius system,' Clara continued with an air of mystery, glad her student was enjoying herself and hoping she was inspiring her own future endeavors. 'That is if it isn't retrieved by a certain Draconian expedition... The golden disc it carries contains a wealth of information on your people, and even though first contact won't take place for a long time after, it goes much smoother than might have been the case thanks to the information held by the Draconian emissary. After that, the two great civilizations have their rough patches–just like any relationship–but... they ultimately get past it... and in the twenty sixth century, the Terra-Draconian Empire-'

A spike of green fury burst from Triton's shadow and struck the Voyager, obliterating it. Darcy jumped back into Clara with shock while the Time Lady reeled from the shock to the universe.

Aylish heard a loud crack and looked down at the shattered face of her wrist watch. 'Clara?' she asked uneasily and turned to find the girl clutching her head. 'Clara! What's wrong?'

'What have they done?!' she panted, staring wide-eyed at the floor as the future she had described unravelled, along with everything else.

'Clara?' Aylish repeated, gently, and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

The Time Lady looked up and straightened with gritted teeth and a vengeful gaze.

Where the probe had been, there now floated a shimmering anomaly with a myriad cracks spreading out of it, as if the whole scene were printed on fractured glass. Perhaps even more disturbing was the fact that the stars beyond were, one by one, going out...

'What's happening?' Darcy asked, frightened.

Ignoring her, the Time Lady pulled a beautiful pocket watch from her jacket, flicking the glyph-engraved cover open to observe the time. The face was near perfect, save for a few chips showing near the rim. Snapping it shut and putting it back, she then sprinted back into the Tardis as the Cloister Bell started to ring.

'Clara! What the hell is going on?!' Aylish demanded as she and her sister followed her in.

Clara halted her busy coordinate setting and console tweaking to give her companion a telling look and a glance toward her sister.

Aylish clamped her hands over Darcy's ears.

'You know what I was saying about altering a fixed point?'

'Yes...' Aylish replied, ever so warily.

'Somebody has done just that.'

'Well, what are you going to do about it?' the lass asked, releasing her sister.

Clara stared at the rotor as she thought about it. Aylish had never seen her quite so shaken and unsure before.

'I mean... I'm a Time Lady, and I was on scene...'

' _And..._ ' Aylish encourage.

Clara then remembered what her mentor kept telling her about following her hearts and a stony resolution set in. She reached out for the handle, 'I'm going to do the third worse thing,' and pulled it.


	2. Living on Borrowed Time

Part Two: Living on Borrowed Time

The pan-galactic diner tumbled round the face of Triton and into its shadow. The perpetrators had long gone since the shot was fired, but that wasn't going to stop a Time Lady bent on justice.

Aylish watched with fear and fascination as Clara employed some console features that she'd never seen her use, and one of the screens seemed to display rewinding footage of the space outside the marvellous ship she now called home.

Suddenly, a second ship appeared on the scanner: spherical, but with protruding arms that gave it a somewhat diamond-like shape.

'Sontarans,' Clara softly growled.

'Sontarans?' Aylish dared to enquire.

'Yes,' the Time Lady replied as she watched the beam withdraw into the main cannon and the spire like appendages change configuration. 'Small, and as angry as they are stupid. Kinda look like a Mr Potato Head in armour.'

The ship faded from view and the pilot stopped the scanner. She immediately reached for her pocket watch again and logged some unexplained data. 'Gotcha! That gives me twenty minuets,' Clara added with an emphasis on the 'me' part. 'Hold on to something you two, I'm taking us in.'

Darcy sat back in the chair and wrapped her limbs around the adjacent railing, but Aylish stayed by the Time Lady's side while she rapidly hit buttons and toggled switches. Clara then threw the lever again, but part way through it's wheezing dematerialization/rematerialization cycle it started to utter an awful stuttering noise and the whole vessel shook violently.

'Ooo, you don't like that, do you?' Clara empathised as she desperately tried to hold on and adjust controls at the same time. 'Hang in there girl...'

'What's going on?' Aylish asked as she clung to the railing for dear life, sensing the Tardis' distress.

'She doesn't want to land near the engineering decks,' the Time Lady yelled over the racket. 'I'm going to look for a place where she will.'

The intrepid justicar of the continuum continued to hold on and stare at the monitor patiently–even when her feet wholly left the deck–as the craft scanned for a pleasing place. The moment it located a stable patch she pulled the leaver back and normality was restored–at least for twenty minuets, and despite the miserable sound of the Cloister Bell.

'I'll deal with this,' Clara retorted as she paced toward the door. Halting before the exit, she span on her heals and pointed up at the tailing Aylish with a fierce little expression. 'Stay here.'

With that, she stepped out and shut the door behind her. The lass just stared at the threshold for a long moment with folded arms and a pout. She then strolled over to her sister and said, 'You know that place where I told you to hide?'

Darcy nodded.

Stay there until we come back.

'But Clara said to stay...' the wee lass quietly stated.

Sensing her fear, Aylish looked to the door in dilemma. Then an idea crossed her mind and she looked back at her sister. 'Clara is a clever lass,' she replied with a smile as she worked at the ornate ring on her finger, 'but she doesn't know when she needs help.' Pulling the ring free, she held it between her thumb and index finger. 'Do you know what this is?'

'It's mum's ring,' Darcy answered.

Aylish placed it in the palm of the little girl's hand and closed her fist around it. 'Whenever I go with her, I'll leave this with you, so I'll have to come back... See?'

Darcy nodded with an uneasy smile.

* * *

'I thought I told you to stay in the Tardis,' Clara hissed as Aylish caught up and the broom closet door shut behind her.

'Well I thought you might need me,' the lass chimed merrily, determined not to let her more timid side get the better of her.

The Time Lady just shook her head, but never stopped stalking onward with sonic screwdriver in hand.

'Clara?' Aylish added uneasily, looking around at the ill-lit surroundings, but the traveller just shushed her as she listened out for the slightest sound and paid heed to the tiniest detection. 'Where are we?' our lass then added–mouse-like–even if that's not what she wanted to say. Sure, her guide was a powerful Time Lady–despite the misleading package–but how could she not feel the sheer life pulsating around her?

'The barracks,' Clara mumbled. 'Coming up on the mess hall...'

'It's a bit, quiet...'

The Teacher noted her agreement with a nod.

'So, why didn't your pocket watch break?' the lass continued, trying to talk her way to calmer nerves, just as she had done in Shilya's Keep.

'Because it's not a pocket watch,' Clara added and gave the girl a furtive smile. She could correct this little problem... she _had_ to correct this little problem... and even if she couldn't, the Doctor most certainly would, so there was nothing wrong with adding some levity to the situation. The small, taunting voice in the back of her head told her how terribly wrong she was though... _again_.

'Nice tee-shirt by the way,' the Time Lady quickly added in a bid to distract her mind.

Aylish looked down at the Japanese Led-Zeppelin print showing beneath her sleeveless denim jacket. 'Maybe we should go there tomorrow,' she miserably supposed.

'I think that's a _very_ good idea,' Clara agreed as she turned her screwdriver to a door panel. Before opening it however, she turned to her companion with a finger to her lips. She then tried to smother a smile as she considered how the Doctor would simply have told her to 'shut up.'

Aylish had her head on a swivel as they entered the mess. Apart from the rows of tables and benches, it wasn't like any mess she'd ever seen. There was no kitchen or counter for instance, and a long hose dangled above each seating space. Something else felt off too, and her eyes widened as she came to a terrible realisation.

'Clara!' she whispered, but Clara just turned to her with finger against lips again and an even sterner expression than before.

In the next instant, the door they'd entered locked itself and several squads of short shock troops poured in through the other three doorways to surround them, rifles raised.

'Well... Isn't _this_ peachy,' Clara retorted as she raised her hands and Aylish nervously followed by example.

'I am insulted that the Council send someone of such diminutive stature to face me,' a gravelly voice stated and several soldiers stepped aside to let their commander approach. 'But, a Time Lady is a prized catch none-the-less,' he added as he removed his helmet to reveal the ravaged visage beneath.

Clara wrinkled her nose. 'There's the pot calling the kettle black...'

'You're right about the Mr Potato Head thing,' Aylish sheepishly sniggered and the Time Lady smiled.

'You will be quiet while I address you, boy, or you will feel the back of my hand!' the commander growled.

'Hey! I'm not a boy!' Aylish complained.

'It seems you aren't half the enemy I thought they'd send,' the commander admitted in seeming ignorance of the lass, but then he pointed at her and said, 'even your companion lacks the wits of her usual ilk.'

Now it was time for Aylish to wrinkle her nose.

'Hold on...' Clara said and allowed a slight chuckle. 'Is this some ridiculously convoluted way of you saying that you expected the Doctor, and that I clearly don't measure up to him?'

'It is,' the commander replied.

'And you would be right,' she admitted to his surprise as she folded her arms. 'I still have a very long way to go,' suddenly, her cheerful expression darkened, 'but I'm just getting started, and you'd better spell 'Clara Oswald' correctly when adding this to your long, _long_ list of defeats.'

'There will be no such defeat this time!' the commander roared like a good, old-fashioned pantomime villain. 'We will purge your self-righteous gathering from the annals of history, reclaim what is ours, and have a Time Lord stand witness as we take our place as the victors of the universe!'

'Although, that won't happen, you realise?' she informed. 'You're altering a fixed point, which _kinda_ insures that there will be nothing left to rule.'

'Time Lord propaganda written to scare lesser races,' the commander dismissed to Clara's obvious indignation. 'Take them away! I do not wish to see them again until the time of our ultimate victory.'

'Thank God for that!' the Time Lady declared as a guard roughly grabbed her by the arm. 'And I was afraid you were going to give us an entire speech!' She then leaned over to Aylish and pretended to whisper, 'They normally go on a lot longer than that...'

The commander looked furious. 'Place the ship on full lockdown. Hand her sonic device to me,' he ordered his men. 'And the _boy's_ bag too.'

* * *

The guard shoved Aylish into the cell after Clara and locked the door behind them. She tripped, and put her shoulder against the approaching wall.

'Well they're... mean...' she bemoaned as she paced, cuffs preventing her from rubbing her arm.

The Time Lady just watched her with an uneasy smile.

'I'm guessing part one of your clever plan is to get out of these restraints?' the lass guessed.

'Yes! It is!' Clara replied, leaping on the suggestion. She then turned her side toward the lass. 'In my pocket. Lipstick shaped thing...'

With great difficulty, Aylish fished through the pocket–which seemed to have the volume of a suitcase–past all manner of clutter, but found the object of interest none the less.

'This it?' she asked as she blindly placed it in Clara's hands.

'Yep,' the Time Lady replied as she awkwardly orientated it. 'Now, hold very still.'

It was a relief to have her hands free, but Aylish was horrified when she saw the small plasma blade that the Time Lady had wielded with vague spatial awareness.

'Are you ok?' Clara asked, noticing how ill the girl looked.

'Fine...' Aylish sighed. 'Let's just get those off you...'

Clara rung her wrists once she was slightly less detained. 'I knew that Svermine letter-opener would come in useful,' she mused. 'They're very militant when it comes to correspondence.'

'So, we use it to escape?'

'It would never cut through that door,' Clara said. 'Then there's the guard.'

'But you have a plan, right?'

The Time Lady looked blankly at the girl and, as always, Aylish could practically see the cogs turning. 'Err...'

'You said you always had a plan!'

'Well, I lied,' Clara painfully admitted. 'I do that from time to time...'

'I hadn't noticed,' the lass retorted, somewhat bitchily, as she pondered their predicament.

Clara shot her a glance that said, 'you are _so_ in for it...' shaking her head. Then she popped into that little trance that people visit when a second engine clicks into place along the train of thought.

Aylish adopted the look too, and as both girls turned to each other they asked, 'Have you ever seen Star Wars?' in unison.

* * *

'Help!' Aylish cried as she banged on the door. 'My friend isn't well! Help!'

No response.

'Tell him I'm on my last regeneration,' Clara grumbled.

'What?'

'Just say it...'

'Help! My friend isn't well!' Aylish continued with a roll of the eyes. 'You're Time Lady captive... _On her last regeneration..._ Is ill!'

She stepped back with a start and quickly remembered to keep her hands behind her back as the door slid open with a hiss.

'What seems to be the problem?' the guard asked as he made motion to push Aylish aside.

'I don't know!' she said, hamming up the 'distraught'. 'She just started speaking gibberish like she normally does, but then she fell down!'

The guard looked at Clara who was indeed sprawled out at the back of the cell, but with an impish grin and her hands folded behind her head.

'You do not appear to be sick,' he noted, rifle trained on her.

'No,' she said sweetly, 'but you look a bit peaky.'

Aylish belted him on the back of the neck with the flat of her shoe and he staggered forward, choking, before passing out beside the prone Time Lady.

'Thanks,' she chirped as her young Scottish friend gave her a hand up. 'You made pretty short work of him... And no, that pun _wasn't_ intended.'

Aylish hopped as she slide her shoe back on and gestured to the unconscious guard. 'Are you putting it on then?'

'Why do I have to get in the smelly armour?' Clara carped and folded her arms, sick of always being the one to be confined to small spaces.

Aylish just offered a raised eyebrow.

Now it was Clara's turn to role her eyes as she pulled the helmet off the soldier.

* * *

'Ow! Hay!' Aylish complained as the Time Lady marching behind jabbed her in the back with the muzzle of the rifle. 'Am not tellin' the commander nothin'!' she retorted. 'So there's no point takin' me to the bridge.'

It was an easy sell as they passed patrols and sentries. All it took was a little tripping and a bit of a protest. The armour, the rifle and the pass card did the rest. Although, Clara's prompts were a bit more... _enthusiastic_ , than she would have liked.

Clara, on the other hand, was simply glad she was wearing her Trap Street outfit that day. She really should have been keeping it in pristine condition, but most of her other cloths would have ensured an even less comfortable situation than the one she was presently in.

Reaching the main service corridor of the central deck, she locked the door behind her and pulled the helmet off.

'Where to now?' Aylish asked as she helped her wiggle out of the armour.

Clara pointed the rifle at the blast door opposite the one they'd just left. 'That way leads to the bridge.' She then gestured to their right and the long passage leading off in that direction. 'Engineering's that way, but security is compartmentalised. The card won't give us access and we won't have time without the screwdriver.'

'How much time do we have?'

A quick check of the fobwatch cast a shadow over Clara's mood. 'Five minuets.' What could they do? It's not as if the last fifteen minuets could have been avoided.

'Do we still have time?' Aylish asked, expression bleak.

Clara nodded. 'Two minuets to reach the command centre and three minuets to do something drastic.'

'How do we get through the door then?'

Clara coolly aimed the rifle at the door panel they needed to use and blasted it. She then handed the weapon over to Aylish and pointed to a bedarkened alcove. 'Wait there.'

Moments later a guard emerged from the door to find the escaped Time Lady waiting for him with folded arms, tapping out the seconds on her elbow. He then found his probic vent being smashed by the butt of a comrade's weapon.

* * *

'You lot have no regard for the sanctity of time, do you?' Clara let rip as she marched onto the bridge.

Helmsman Vask went for his sidearm, but Aylish waved her hulking rifle at him and flexed her finger.

'Ahh! The little Time Lady!' Nix greeted as he turned from the sweeping planet-scape to face her. 'I was just about to fetch for you. And to answer your question: no, the Sontaran people do not share the simpering sentimentality of the dusty bureaucrats you represent. What is time but a tactical advantage to be exploited against our enemies? A tactical advantage, I may add, that I posses over you, now. The primary weapons system has already been programmed. The final countdown to victory has begun. Soon, the probe named Voyager will be within optimal position and we will strike from our place of concealment behind this moon.'

Clara's glare was something to behold, but her voice was light as she turned to Aylish and said, 'See what I mean about them going on a bit.'

'He doesn't talk as much as Agent Chase did,' the lass sang over her shoulder.

'This is true...' the Time Lady agreed.

'I see your insolence has not dulled,' Nix hissed, pointing her sonic screwdriver at her. 'It is valorous that you should face defeat with such a cavalier attitude.'

'This is also true,' Clara added and dug her hands into her pockets as she started to idly pace–a sure sign for Aylish that she was formulating something. 'Just as you continue to underestimate your opponent. We escaped because you underestimated me. This jacket, which you failed to confiscate, has pockets that are dimensionally transcendental you see.'

'It means they're larger on the inside.' Aylish contributed.

'And it means I can carry all kinds of things around with me, like...' the Time Lady continued as she produced a round, green object, 'a Tennis ball, for instance.' Clara started tossing the ball up and catching it as she went on to ask, 'Do you enjoy the sport? No. Of course you don't. Not enough blood in it... _Although_ ,' she added, tilting her head and snatching the ball permanently,' there was that one year... They called it the Red Wembley. I _swear_ you'll never look at a racket in quite the same way...'

'You babble madam,' Nix accused. 'I know of your Time Lady wiles. You wish to stall me, so that you may gain some upper hand and humiliate me!'

'I confess that I do not,' she retorted, effortlessly adopting his cadence of refinement. 'You again underestimate me, sir! Time, as you say, is far too brief, and I rarely need to dally in order to best my opponents, so let us swiftly move on with the proceedings...'

With that, she hurled the ball at quite a speed, aiming wide by a matter of degrees.

'Ha!' Nix laughed as the ball ricocheted off the panoramic window. 'You miss, short sta-'

The next instant he was toppling to the ground, clutching his collar.

'One false move and I'll ventilate you,' Aylish growled at the fidgety Helmsman with a seemingly uncharacteristic fierceness that caused Clara some concern as she strolled to the fallen Nix.

'Again, underestimation,' she chipped with a wink to the fallen commander as she prised her screwdriver from his hand. 'Aylish, do you have you're laptop with you?'

'In my rucksack,' the lass said as she backed up to her side. 'Why? What are you going to do to it?'

'Relax,' the Time Lady dismissed as she rummaged through the bag. 'I'll get you another one. A Worm infected the Bios, so it isn't like it's any good to you now anyway,' she then admitted. 'But it might be exactly what I need.'

Setting it up on the primary command console, she first tried accessing the system the old fashioned way, then by sonicing it–both to no avail. 'Drastic measures, then,' Clara said and soniced the laptop instead before furiously clattering away on the keyboard, crashing through blue screen after blue screen as the seconds slipped away.

'Hurry, Clara,' Aylish prompted nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

'I don't...' Clara stammered with barely veiled desperation as she typed. Pushing loose strands of hair behind her ear, she tried to boost the signal with her screwdriver. 'There's no way this system can be this advanced.'

With desperation, the Time Lady took her 'letter opener' and sliced into the panel work. What she found shook her to the core. 'That's not...' she started as she stared down at the twine of cables she saw everyday since leaving Gallifrey.

'What's wrong?' Aylish said, glancing over her shoulder.

'No... They can't have,' Clara wavered. The vessel seemed to quake as she sliced through one of the thick conduits and reams of nerve-like wire, pulsating with turquoise light, spilled out. 'I can't-'

The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention as a pitched rifle shot rang out and she span to the room at large.

Back aboard the Tardis, Darcy watched with dread and wonder as the ring in her hand glowed and warmed briefly within her open palm.

'Clara...' Aylish gasped as she turned to the Time Lady, eyes wide, smoke pouring from the charred wound where her heart should have been.

Clara's own hearts shuddered to a halt as she watched her companion fall to her knees, the thin crimson trail from the corner of her mouth sickeningly bright against moon-pale skin. Behind the lass, the Sontaran soldier known as Zars stood in the entryway, his pistol smouldering.

His aim switched as Vask flourished his own pistol. Clara dropped and rolled between neon bolts as they fired again, snatching up the commander's handcannon and vaporising them both.

Scrabbling over to her fallen friend, she cradled her in her arms and tried blinking away the tears that welled up. 'I can't stop them, Aylish,' the young, failed, Time Lady confessed as she rocked her gently. 'You might have helped, Aylish. You might have found a way. But I couldn't-'

She'd broken her first rule. She'd taken a companion. The one thing she'd vowed never to do. And now a young woman lay dead, her entire life stolen from her because of it.

Events replayed through her mind at speeds faster than her mortal self could ever have achieved. Where had she gone so badly wrong? Where had she lost? At what point did she start toward this dead-end event?

As a brilliant green light cast the bridge in shadows, she knew, and her hearts started once again with a dark resolve. With all at a loss, she stole the commander's vortex manipulator, shoved the laptop back into the bag and swung it over one shoulder with no question of whether she had the right. After all, she was now a lady of time herself was she not?

The air filled with hot energy as squads of shock troops flooded through the door. 'You lose,' she grinned, fair and menacing as a concussion grenade landed at her feet and she activated the time device...

* * *

Clara pointed the rifle at the blast door opposite the one they'd just left. 'That way leads to the bridge.' She then gestured to their right and the long passage leading off in that direction. 'Engineering's that way, but security is compartmentalised. The card won't give us access and we won't have time without the screwdriver.'

'How much time do we have?' Aylish asked.

A quick check of the fobwatch cast a shadow over Clara's mood. 'Five minuets.'

The glass cracked, taking her by surprise.

'Clara...' a voice entirely her own urged, and the Time Lady looked up into her own eyes–a remnant of a dead-end future, stained with blood and smoke.


	3. The Impossible Girl Victorious

Part Three: The Impossible Girl Victorious

All hell broke loose... Actually, it didn't, but I thought that would make for an exciting start to this portion of the account. For what it's worth, a few of the Council _were_ practically tearing their hair out by this point!

'What are you-' Clara started with shock, but her bloodied and tired echo from a future now gone shushed her.

'We haven't got time... Maybe this will explain,' future her stated and went to put her fingers on her temples.

'No! Sorry! What do you think you're doing?' Clara reacted, batting her hands away.

'Ok. This is weird even by your standards...' Aylish noted.

'Please,' the timey-wimey trespasser beseeched.

Clara could see the desperation and the madness in her eyes. A desperation she'd only consciously encountered twice before. With half a mind flitting between volcanoes and cloisters, the Time Lady warily agreed.

Aylish watched, still agape, as this other Clara put her hands on 'her Clara's' temples, both leaning heads together with eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

In an instant of time, Clara saw all that might have been and pulled away with a sharp intake of breath. She then promptly turned, looked up at Aylish for a long moment and then threw her arms around her.

'Ok...' Aylish laughed, nervously. 'It's not like I'm dying or anything like that... right?'

Future Clara just stared at her with pain in her eyes.

'Oh great!' the lass remarked as the penny dropped and she stared into the middle-distance with a poignant sort of glaze.

'You will need this,' future Clara said, placing the vortex manipulator on present Clara's wrist. The Time Lady graciously accepted it with a nod. 'And I think you might find this useful too,' the outlaw traveller continued, offering the sonic screwdriver with a smile. 'This, I believe,' she then added, giving the rucksack to Aylish, 'is yours.'

'My bag!' the lass cheered as she took it and flung the straps over her shoulders.

'Make a good one,' dead-end Clara said, tilting her head by way of a goodbye, and strolled off toward the hangers.

Aylish felt a little sad watching her walk away alone, but she wasn't quite sure why. Surely she'd done her part now and could go her own way?

The lass' wonderings were cruelly answered however when the 'obsolete' Time Lady reached the junction at the far end of the corridor. Looking to her right, she seemed to flinch and lose all nerve before sprinting away to her left. An instant later a small, dragon-like creature with ruby eyes, scythe shaped tail and mouth in its stomach darted passed in pursuit and the horrifying scream that followed had Aylish clasping her hands over her mouth.

'You! She...'

Clara frowned as a passage of Gallifreyan script formed on her wrist with smoky ink. A ward against those... things...

'Listen,' the Time Lady said, soft, but stern, as she took Aylish by the shoulders. 'I know what I need to do, and I need you.' She then turned and gave the door to engineering a hard gaze. 'No matter what we see, or face, or do beyond that door... you have my word that I will get you through and you have my word that it is not the end.' The Time Lady then looked back at her companion with unaltered stare, her words as heavy as lead. 'Do you trust me, Aylish?'

'Yes,' the lass replied with every earnest ounce of truth within her, and without so much as a second's doubt. Mention of 'the end' had the hairs down her back on end, but after what Clara had done in that cold, old tower, and after the sacrifice she'd literally just watched her make, she'd gladly let her lead her through hell if it were the only way out, and she had an inkling that that is what was about to happen.

Clara nodded as she snapped her watch shut. 'Four minuets to save the universe...' She then gave a grin as the adrenaline flooded her system and she grabbed Aylish by the hand.

* * *

With no door an obstacle to them, they ran for the next junction and the next door labelled, 'Weapons Banks', 'Med Bay,' 'Engineering.'

Clara, sonic screwdriver held out in anticipation, poured over the ship schematics she'd memorised throughout years of Game Theory and Tactical Intervention classes. It may be of little surprise to you that she felt rather smug in the reassurance that all those witching-hour cramming-sessions were finally paying off, but all those 'shop sessions' were proving invaluable too.

The 'smug' was knocked out of her however as a gauntleted fist shot out from behind the corner.

As she came-to, the world was on its side and Aylish stared back with empty eyes. Her lip stung as a metallic taste filled her mouth and a steady, mechanical growl brought her attention to the shadow looming over her.

She turned, groggily, to Zars, his bloodied chainblade held high for the execution. As he brought it down, she reached for the vortex manipulator...

* * *

'Four minuets to save the universe...' Clara said with a big grin and ran with Aylish trailing along behind.

Through the first door and toward the next junction, they halted with a start as another Clara barrelled across their path with a cry. The sound of heavy impact on armour was accompanied by the clatter of falling weapons and our duo rushed to the corner just in time to see the second Time Lady shoving a Sontaran back, further and further, beyond the threshold of the door he'd just emerged from.

With a cheeky glance back at them, the girl with the busted lip then pulled the pin from a grenade on his belt and sealed the door behind her.

The whole ship rocked as the blast roared behind the heavy hatch and warning klaxons wailed to life.

 _Now all hell broke loose..._

A foot forced it's way through the cover of a vent opposite and yet another Clara appeared. 'This way!' she frantically beckoned. 'Hurry!'

Our Clara and Aylish clambered after her just in time, for as she pulled the grill back into place, a squad of Sontarans emerged from the door they were about to use.

Bypassing it entirely and emerging a few feet further down the line, a third Clara stood by the door controls. With a hit of her fist and a wave of her screwdriver, she sealed it just as a straggling troop spotted them and called to the rest of his unit.

Helping Aylish up, our Clara ran on without question. The ship shook and quaked with further blasts on the levels above and below. Alerts of multiple hostile sightings sounded, desperate and confused over the comm system, and a glance out of any porthole would have shown more of those dragon-like creatures circling the vessel like sharks circling a dying whale.

The corridor widened into the landing of a grand stairwell and two sets of trainers squeaked on the glossy floor as the elevators opened to reveal a platoon of murderous guards.

Just as Clara was reaching for her wrist again, the ceiling of each unit caved with a sound akin to a horrific car accident and both went plummeting to a fiery grave, chased by an avalanche of heavy military equipment.

'Stairs it is then...' Clara retorted and they hurried on down into the bowls of pandemonium.

Passed the indescribable chaos of the Med Bay and all that burned within, if the site of her own bodies affected the Time Lady then she certainly didn't show it. There was certainly more madness too once they skirted the wrecks of the elevators and entered the warren of passages that kept the ship alive.

'Can't we do some damage around here?' Aylish asked over the rush of steam as one route was closed to them and a previously inaccessible one opened.

'Too many fail safes and redundancies,' Clara replied as she led her on. 'The only way to end this is with the drive system.

All the while, Darcy huddled further and further beneath her sisters' reading chair as eldritch cracks of light snaked across the Tardis' console and the great machine despaired.

After many a dodge and hair-raising close call, the two girls rested eyes on their goal with merely ninety seconds to spare. One final hurdle remained however as they approached the huge, vault like door: the lock. On each side of the armoured entry were two elevated security stations, each manned by a Sontaran sentry, and each needing to be engaged simultaneously to release the mechanism.

Both guards spotted our heroines at roughly the same time and initiated the appropriate procedure, activating a battery of previously concealed turrets and attempting to contact the bridge.

Aylish gaped at the gatling lasers as they spooled up, like a bunny caught in a truck's headlights. The sudden allure of power whispering her name, Clara again found herself reaching for her new bracelet before time's due.

There was a commotion in each box as a perfect double of the Time Lady appeared behind both guards in the blink of an eye, incapacitated them and deactivated the defenses. They then held the right hands of the twin sentinels against the biometric panels and looked down at the primary Clara to give a respectful 'ok' nod. She returned it while Aylish's head was positively spinning and, turning back to each other with a restful gaze, the wibbly-wobbly doppelgangers unlocked the door.

'This is the true sin of the Sontarans,' the Time Lady said to her companion as she strolled forward and the vault slowly unveiled itself with a near-deafening screech of metal on metal and tortured gears.

Light bled forth from the great beyond, and Aylish let go a terrible gasp as all that the Sontarans had done became apparent.

Dirty and industrial, the coral columns encircling the crystalline time rotor and cybernetic console had been bolted to ceiling and floor with girder and rivet. Nothing about this Tardis was as sleek or free form as she knew to be natural, and everything organic had been forced to match their ends.

The Sontarans had something as brilliant and wonderful as her Time Lady, but there was nothing so kind or symbiotic in the thing. The dark little heart beating at the centre of the dreadnaught–the darkest secret. A battery animal locked away from the stars it so desperately pined for.

'I felt it... _her_... when we came aboard...' Aylish stated as she stepped onto the decking, so very close to tears.

'I know,' Clara heavily sighed as she started fiddling with the controls. 'I know you tried to tell me and I... _This_ is why our Tardis wouldn't land here, and _this_ is why I couldn't deactivate the weapons.'

'What are you doing?' Aylish shrieked along with the machine as the Time Lady twisted a dial and pushed a gauge as far as it would go.

'The Sontarans have been stupid enough to blindly follow Gallifreyan schematics which means they've installed a Euthanasia Circuit,' Clara replied without any trace of hope or light in her being. 'I have to kill it, Aylish... And... It will hurt, but I have no other choice.'

'She's a afraid,' the lass whimpered as she caressed the living metal. 'So very afraid...'

'I know,' Clara replied. One switch left.

'Can't she deactivate the weapon? Move somewhere else?' Aylish suggested, pleaded–as much to the machine as the Time Lady.

Clara simply shook her head. 'This Tardis only provides security for the other major systems. Surrounding them like a living firewall. As for moving elsewhere, you're probably slaved to the commander aren't you?'

The Tardis chirped in confirmation as the impossible girl lovingly stroked the console.

'She has no choice but to follow his commands,' the once human girl explained for the mostly human girl. 'And right now that means staying put until the weapon fires.'

'There has to be another way!' Aylish replied with the fiery defiance that the Time Lady was looking for.

'There is,' Clara added as she circled the console, the quiet against the storm. 'Not a get out-clause, but a loop-hole...'

'Which is?'

'Taking the shot herself and materialising in front of the laser blast,' the Time Lady coolly explained.

' _Would you?_ ' the lass asked sharply, glaring into the wanderer's eyes.

'I have,' Clara confirmed, staring right back. She then turned to the rotor and added, 'This is the least painful way.'

Her thumb hovered by the kill switch as the last few grains of sand ran out.

'Ok,' Aylish muttered to herself as she closed her eyes–hating herself for the tears that escaped. 'Ok...' She opened them again, clear and steeled. 'If that's the way it has to be, we might as well accept it right?' the lass then reasoned as she approached the console.

The machine chirped and purred at her touch. At the end, somebody had shown her kindness.

A sad ghost of a smile touched Aylish's lips and faded just as fast. 'I know you're young,' she continued, feeling Clara's attention fixated on her and a strange association with her words. 'I know there is still so much you want to see and do, but if we don't do this, then nothing ever will have existed. We three are so small compared to all of... that! But the universe is watching us now. It is watching you! So why don't we give it a bit of a show, ay? Put on a brave face and go out swingin'?'

'That much won't be said about your ignominious end,' Commander Nix barked and Aylish span to face him as his pistol flashed.

Moments after she expected a brief-if-agonizing end, she opened one eye, gingerly. The point of light hung in her vision with a distorted sort of quality–which reminded her of old 3D films–and as she took the opportunity to step out of its seemingly unalterable path, she discovered the bolt had somehow froze in mid-air. Now it sparkled like a shard of crystal... static, and no more than few inches from where she'd stood.

where there might have been surprise, there was only grim recollection from her Time Lady, and everything beyond the threshold of the 'console room' bore the same strange look of double-vision.

'What happened?' Aylish enquired as she glided around the bolt, curiously scrutinising it.

'The Tardis has stopped time,' Clara said with an appreciative glance to the console. 'Except for us... apparently...'

'Why?' Aylish asked in a very child-like way.

'So she can make her decision, probably. She might not be able to move until the weapon fires,' the Teacher explained, then nodded to the frozen Sontaran, 'but he must have never mentioned that she couldn't 'fidget' a bit.'

'How long did we have left?'

Clara checked her 'watch'. 'Four seconds...' She then grinned–bright, and sudden, and a little manic–but the clicking of shifting coordinates wiped it away. 'I think she's made her mind up...'

The clacking of figures that would dictate when and where came to a definitive halt, and the terrible silence was punctuated by the unlocking of the dematerialisation lever.

'Why'd you do that?' Clara wondered aloud as she pointed at the switch.

'I think she wants us to make our decision too,' the empath said, a little unsure. 'We aren't getting out of this one. Are we?'

The Time Lady shook her head and noticed the Gallifrayan ward leave her wrist in a wisp of black smoke. 'If not the blast then the Reapers, and I know which I'd prefer. But... it will be as if none of this happened,' she then lied.

Without another word, Aylish reached out and gripped the leaver that would both save and condemn. 'Are you with me then?' the lass enquired, a touch of nobility to her request.

Clara placed her hand over her companion's. 'To the very end,' she said with a heart-warming smile.

Everything beyond the three of them appeared normal again as the Tardis warbled and Nix stared in confusion at his own laser bolt as it struggled turbulently against it's increasingly inverted inertia. Before he could figure out quite what was happening, something in the particles gave and the burst of energy blasted back into its sender, rendering him to a streak of dust.

The second-hand then struck the ill-marked moment, the Tardis hummed excitedly and the undulating drum-boom of the primary cannon rolled throughout the ship. Both girls pushed the lever forward, the machine wheezed as the time rotor rose, and the short-lived trip ended with an almighty roar as the beam blasted through decks and bulkheads.

Struggling to hold on as the deck quaked and girders groaned, Clara turned to Aylish and shook her hand in a 'whatever happens next, it was an honour to be your friend' sort of way.

Aylish wasn't having any of that however and fiercely embraced her, much like she could imagine a sister would. 'See you on the other side!' the lass yelled over the cacophony as the ship came apart at the seams in a rush of fire-lit vacuum and ice.


	4. Epiphany

Part Four: Epiphany

'...And in the twenty sixth century, the Terra-Draconian Empire will be forged,' Clara continued, 'reigning over the Milky Way for a billion years of peace and prosperity...'

She then glanced to Aylish who returned a knowing look. All the while, Darcy stared from the window with wonder, happy in her own little world of obliviousness.

'So,' Clara whispered and smiled sweetly as she crouched down to the little girls height. 'What did you think of that history lesson?'

'Best one ever!' the mite sang, setting the Time Lady's hearts aglow.

'Have you finished your book report on George's Marvellous Medicine?' she enquired, softly.

Darcy shook her head. 'Nearly. I have a bit left.'

'Go get your stuff then,' the Teacher replied and nodded towards the door. 'I'll help you finish it.'

As Darcy skipped off into the depths of the living machine, Clara rose, pensively rubbing the back of her neck.

'Why can I still remember everything?' Aylish cautiously asked and looked down at her watch. It was perfectly intact.

'We were at the centre of the event,' the Time Lady waved away as she strolled back through the doors, not really clarifying anything at all. 'Plus, you're a time traveller now and the rules are slightly different for us,' Clara then added as she sunk her fingers into the jelly-like segment of the console and closed her eyes in concentration. 'We're slightly protected from temporal changes, and that includes our minds...'

Aylish looked around at the warm cavern that embraced her with a forest of light and soothed her with its pulse-like ambiance. 'Yes, very much like a tree...' she privately mused, then, aloud, 'what are you doing?'

'Sending a report to Gallifrey,' Clara mumbled, eyes still closed. Of their involvement she had no doubt, but further work beyond a quantum ward was required on their end.

Stepping back from the telepathic circuits, she shot her companion a side-long glance and walked around to the Helmic Orientators. 'You need to be more careful in the future,' she then said, completely blindsiding the lass. In the next instant they were hightailing it away from the event, as far as Clara dared venture to the edge of the map.

'I am careful,' Aylish returned, a little too bemused for a retort.

'You died,' Clara continued. She was going for tact, but it came off as a bit more 'sledgehammer' than she would have liked. 'I saw it once, but there were all those versions of me, without you...'

'And, here I am,' the lass replied quite cheerfully and sketched a curtsy. 'I was in trouble and you did something clever, you clever girl...'

Clara all but winced at the words and the voice in her head sang that the lass was already doomed. 'I thought exactly the same thing about the Doctor,' she then informed, quietly, and what she felt in that moment wiped the grin from Aylish's face.

Before she could continue, Darcy came bounding in with workbook and the Time Lady's whole demeanour lit-up as she span to greet her.

What Aylish had felt prior left her with a lot to ruminate over however.

* * *

JOTUNHEIM, 6.2/zebra/309

The frost nipped at Darcy's nose, but she was far too diverted to notice. Three girls–one once human, one mostly human, and one who still believed in Father Christmas–lay out in the crisp, virgin snow, between the Ashildr Sea and the Singing Forest.

'So your friend had a sea named after her?' Aylish asked with a touch of a frown as the night sky danced through brilliant hues of green and red and blue. One of the furthest wonders of the universe, few got to appreciate the Aurora Dagmar, which lit the expanse as vividly as a sun rise.

'Calling her 'friend' is a bit of a stretch,' Clara retorted, projecting large quantities of jealousy and resentment.

'You should try to be friends with everybody,' Darcy faintly noted, safe and cosy between her two favourite carers.

'And you would be right,' the Teacher enthused and smiled as she recalled what she always used to tell her Doctor, 'but things aren't always that easy.'

'They should be,' the little girl muttered and Clara nodded, the lights above reflected in her somewhat sleepy eyes.

Aylish sat up, the fluffy snow falling from her incredibly warm winter coat. 'Just as you should be in bed, little missy.'

'Awwww...' Darcy moaned.

'She's right. C'mon,' Clara agreed with a smirk and a nod as she hauled the little girl up out of the creased blanket of powder. 'We can always come back tomorrow night, and we're up to a new story, aren't we?'

'Yeah!' the wee lass confirmed and skipped off happily to the deserted diner.

'So sweet,' the Time Lady cooed to herself. Then, to Aylish, 'Fancy getting a bottle from the kitchen? I think we earned it today...'

* * *

Considering Clara's directions, Aylish put more trust in her nose for finding the kitchen during her first forty eight hours aboard–the place _always_ smelt like baking! Now, however, she felt she was getting the hang of navigating the Tardis' labyrinthine world, having found her way to the 'galley' and only getting lost twice along the way.

The complex aroma of cakes, cookies and soufflés was a delight as it hit her and she strolled past well-stocked-shelf after well-stocked shelf. There was a grand Auger to one side, accompanied by a Belfast sink and opposed by ample yards of worktop kept in pristine condition. Everything from coffee machine to quantum-accurate scales adorned this sleek, dark-granite space–including the Great British Bake-Off 2063 trophy, which hadn't surprised the lass at all–but the objects she sought were tucked away in the far corner.

Approaching the pleasantly provisioned wine rack, Aylish _was_ surprised to find a small, ornate box–the sort you'd usually find a watch or necklace in. It was dark blue in colour, and sealed with a length of white silk tied into a pretty bow. Picking it up, she also found that the string-attached tag was addressed to her in fine, swirling writing. It said:

 _'To Aylish. Because I never got you anything..._

 _PTO._ '

Intrigued, she turned the slither of card over to find that the back bore the passage:

' _And because you showed up when I needed you._ '

Heart swelling, she removed the ribbon and carefully opened the box. Her hand then shot up and clamped over her mouth as the simple Yale key within sparkled under the fluorescent light.

* * *

Darcy lay in bed, the quilt up to her eyes as she stared at the glowing stars on her ceiling and Clara opened the book she'd selected. Although beyond her reading level, the wee mite had taken a shine to the adventures of Sherlock Holmes–with the stipulation that the narrator use the appropriate 'posh' and 'cockney' accents–and Clara was hoping she'd have the same success with Dickens.

''Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that,'' Clara read with all the poise and certainty of a Governess who had first hand account of the events of A Christmas Carol. Suddenly, however, she stopped and stared into the wooden floorboards with the gravest of expressions.

'Clara?' Darcy asked, soft and sincere. 'What's wrong?'

The Time Lady blinked the haunting of her future away and turned to her charge with a tired smile, the wooden chair creaking with the excise of tension. 'Nothing dearey. Just something I've been wondering for a while.'

'Like what?'

The smile waned slightly as the Teacher simply said, 'you'll understand someday...'

* * *

Padding to her rooms, Clara passed the library junction along with the tall, blue-and-gold draped figure stood within. Stopping and frowning, she took a couple of steps back and frowned some more at the depressingly regal Athenia Astravaliana.

My parallel cousin simply smiled down at her in return, turquoise locks spilling in curls over gilded shoulder-plates.

'You knew what was going to happen, didn't you?' Clara quietly accused, blood flushing her cheeks.

'If you are referring to the Time Lord council, then yes, they did,' Athenia deflected with haughty grace. 'They used the temporal distortion that surrounds Port Gloam as cover for forcing your Time Capsule to materialise.'

'I wouldn't have noticed anyway. I was-' she started and stopped, not wanting to sound unprofessional. 'What?' the Time Lady then hissed as Athenia's words sunk in. 'Why did they force me to land there!?'

'They foresaw that your taking Aylish as companion would lead you to the event above Neptune.'

'So everything I've done since leaving Gallifrey has been an orchestration?' Clara retorted, seething now. 'A trick to lead me to _that_ place?' This felt so much like Trap Street that she wanted to scream, but, as usual, she'd keep most of it bottled for when it really counted. 'What if I'd have failed? Hmm?' she enquired with a lazy wave of an arm while the other remained tightly clamped around her stomach.

'We had everything in hand,' Athenia calmly replied, her saccharine little smile never wavering as she put her lot in with the rest of their kind. 'Lady President Ohilla felt you could use one final exam–a practical–to be sure that her opinion of you wasn't misplaced. It seems you've adopted the unorthodox approach of your first mentor, but... you passed the test, and my Lady is pleased.'

Clara's arms dropped and her shoulders sank as she relaxed a little. Her former room-mate and study partner certainly knew how to play her–and as I write this, I do wonder if this disposition of friendship between them played some part in my own memory loss, as well as the first failed attempt to apprehend the time-extracted Clara...

'Those twenty minuets will be sustained and time-locked so that they can never be interfered with,' Athenia continued, 'the Sontaran Black Hole Shipyard has been erased, and as for the duplicates of Aylish and yourself... Consider them as little more than ghosts. We certainly won't be factoring your other self into our 'arrangement.''

That damned arrangement. It was certainly a kindness that the Time Lords had made reparations for Rassilon's folly, but Trap Street still hung over her like an axe. Twelve more chances were all she had, and for a girl who'd died a thousand or more time already, that was few indeed.

Clara shivered at the reminder and the lingering resentment churned within. 'What about the Doctor?' she asked by way of self-distraction. 'Isn't this his sort of thing?'

'You know as well as I that even he has his limits,' Athenia answered enigmatically, looking for all the world like some northern ice-goddess with her arctic-blue eyes, lips and blush. 'The portion of the Doctor's timeline that is most closely synchronised with your own places him and Ashildr at the founding of the Final Conclusion.'

Peace talks... Clara couldn't begin to imagine how bored her Doctor must have been feeling at that moment, but a telling glint in Athenia's eyes, and a twist in her smile revealed something more.

'Wait...' Clara added with a smirk and a faintly nervous half-chuckle. 'He knows about all of this, doesn't he?'

The native Gallifreyan tried not to titter as she nodded.

'Who did he punch this time?' she asked with a contented sort of sigh and a role of the eyes.

'The Castellan,' was all that Athenia could get out as a ladylike giggle took over for a few moments and Clara put her hand to her mouth to keep her own composure. The butterflies in her tummy certainly _couldn't_ be stopped however, and it wasn't the first time her Doctor had felt so compelled to defend her honour from the dusty old bully–the difference being that she'd always been there to calm him before.

As her Academy friend reclaimed her poise, Clara noted, 'I don't like being manipulated,' with only a modicum of the ire she might have been entitled to. 'Being put on another path without so much as a say in the matter.'

'But assignments are part of the deal you made,' Athenia said softly, a touch of disfavour colouring her gaze. 'The Time Lords don't do anything without thought of remuneration.'

'I hadn't noticed,' Clara responded, quoting Aylish with effortless snark.

Athenia raised a perfectly groomed eye brow in a manner that demanded reason from the 'privileged' graduate.

'Look,' Clara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she felt the tension gather toward a schism sized migraine, 'I really don't mind the assignments. I was actually looking forward to meeting Queen Victoria,' and finding out why she'd asked for her, specifically. 'But, like the Doctor... Well, maybe not like the Doctor–he's usually a big old grump these days.' Pausing for a moment and ignoring her friend's smirk–which she believed to be a mocking impersonation–she began anew. 'What I mean to say is that I would like a little more openness. A little heads-up. A memo. A thinly-veiled order. That's it,' she raised her open hands in honesty. 'That's all I want. I do _not_ want Tardis-jacking because the Council can't be bothered to phone.'

'Better?' Athenia asked, amused as usual by her diminutive sister's 'Earthisms'.

Clara let go a puff of breath. 'A bit. Yeah...'

'You'll appreciate the next bit then...' the glorified gofer added and Clara got the inkling that she really wouldn't.

'Go on...'

'We have a second, 'on-going' assignment for you. Involving Aylish.'

Clara was now officially interested.

'A new Matrix-prophecy has come to light-' Athenia revealed.

'Here we go...' Clara grumbled, spoiling the harbinger's sombre tune.

'The prophecy states that 'after the ruination of the Hybrid, the half-orphaned companion of the magician's apprentice will claim her hidden throne with sword of nightfall and lay waste the warriors of time,'' Athenia quoted, regardless.

The Teacher folded her arms, looking decidedly unimpressed. 'Let me guess. It refers to her as 'the once and future queen'?'

'How did you-'

'Me and the Doctor have a habit of stumbling across this stuff,' Clara casually explained.

'Well, it is of great concern and interest to Gallifrey...'

'Just like last time,' the impossible girl chirped. 'When we stood in the ashes of Gallifrey... about a billion years after it fell...'

'Sorry,' Athenia muttered, but it was so adorable and genuine that any remaining anger fizzled away.

'And you do realise 'the warriors of time' could refer to about ten different races, right? If at all...'

'You know what?' Athenia retorted, throwing her hands up as she let go of all airs and pretence. 'You're right. The council are paranoid. These things are never what we expect.' All the while Clara just nodded along as if she had always been right and would continue to be so. 'But, you'll still look into it?' the young Time Lady then asked.

'Of course,' Clara confirmed with a grin.

'Ok then,' Athenia smiled, having expected more of a rant from her infamous House-sister. 'I would love to stay and chat, but Ace needs a helpful reminder about memory worms, and it's best if Aylish not know about our discussion.'

'If you see the Doctor,' Clara asked as her friend began to fade, 'give him a hug.'

Athenia gave her a look as if to say even that would be wildly inappropriate given the third part of the arrangement.

Alone again, but reminded that Gallifrey was always watching, Clara remained, statue-like, processing.

* * *

She was still processing when rooted in front of her chalkboard with a glass of wine in hand.

'You're not telling me something,' Aylish noted as she looked up from her armchair. She could practically see the guilt, conflict and wariness pouring from the Time Lady.

Clara's eyes flickered in her direction, but she never turned from the case chart. 'Stop it,' she said with a hardened edge to her voice.

'Hay,' Aylish replied in defence as she swung her legs over the arm and scooped up the bowl of chocolate soufflé, 'it's not my fault I can read you like a book.' The lass then bravely sampled a spoonful of the desert and her eyes widened in revelation. 'Mohmymod!' she exclaimed.

'You know what?' Clara countered in exasperation, sticking the chalk down and gesturing precariously with her glass holding hand. 'I'm not playing their games. They did that to me and it isn't fair!'

She then told Aylish all about the prophesy, watching as the lass' expression morphed through various stages of surprise.

'Now there's somethin' to look forward to!' Aylish finally remarked with a strain of uncomfortably familiar sarcasm. 'They do realise we just pwned a bunch of time travellin' meanies?'

Clara took a swig of her drink and picked the chalk back up. 'They do. But you don't have the throne or the creepy sword yet.'

'Couldn't they just be a chair, like this, and a constellation or somethin'?'

The Time Lady sighed. 'This is the point me and the Doctor keep trying to make, but they never listen. They're too paranoid. Everything has to be about them.'

Silence fell, and Aylish decided she'd have to ask about this Doctor guy that Clara kept going on about. Considering the heady cocktail of emotions that the Time Lady gave off when doing so however, she figured the stories could last until later. Idly flicking through the pages of her book, she then resorted to, 'What are you thinking about?' as a means of distraction.

'My legacy,' Clara answered, quite honestly.

'You just saved the universe,' Aylish stated with innocent clarity.

'Not that many will ever know,' the Time Lady mused. 'You lose track of reality at the Academy–what really matters–and today kinda brought it all back. I'm destined to die,' she added, bleakly. 'It's already happened, and it won't be long till it catches up with me, but I can't help wondering what I'll be leaving behind. Memory is a very important thing, you know.'

As an empath and a woman, the truth and answer to Clara's soul-searching was obvious, but she didn't want to speak out of turn in matters she knew little of. 'You Time Lords are a morbid bunch too,' she said instead.

Clara nodded and smiled, appreciating the levity that her friend brought.

'You bring hope to people. Well, me and Darcy,' the Lass continued. 'I'm sure you've brought hope to others too. All you need is certainty that that hope doesn't fade with your passing. That it might continue to help...'

The stark surprise of inspiration suddenly flashed across Clara's features, followed by an invisible-yet-electrifying wave of joy, excitement and apprehension.

'That's it...' Clara declared and span to her companion, sloshing wine. 'You are such a...' She gestured to her enthusiastically with both hands before giving her the glass and clopping hurriedly up the steps to the console.

'What are you?' Aylish started with a bemused smile as she watched the Time Lady interface with the telepathic circuits.

'Making a request,' the lonely traveller answered, somewhat enigmatically.

With a bright happiness hitherto unseen by the lass, Clara scurried around the central column and down to a second chalkboard on the far side of the chamber. Aylish then leaned over for a better view as long looming night passed away and the Time Lady cleared the board of its calculations with a swipe of her dressing gown sleeve.

Clara then raised her chalk and took to clean slate with, 'Hope.'

Next Time: The Homecoming

Life was looking good for Olivia Clary, until she found herself caught in a web of conflict as old as the legend of the Doctor...


End file.
